


The Ballad of Twizzlers

by RighteousNerd



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hostage Situation, Phil Coulson fanboying over Melinda May, Truth Serums, implied philinda, sassy Phil Coulson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2015-04-19
Packaged: 2018-03-24 20:01:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3782491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RighteousNerd/pseuds/RighteousNerd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil kills some time while being held captive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ballad of Twizzlers

**Author's Note:**

> This is a ridiculous story because I am in a ridiculous mood.

He's bound when he wakes. Legs zip tied at the ankles, arms cuffed behind him at the wrists. He's sitting at a table, in a room with no window, and his head is spinning. Across from him sits a really big, really ugly man, and behind that man are another two, really big, really scary looking men. It's less than ideal.

Phil takes a deep breath and immediately regrets it. It's not just the sudden lightheadedness, or the way the only light, a single bulb overhead, has him seeing spots. No, it's that it all smells incredibly awful. Having spent his entire adult life affiliated with a paramilitary organization and surrounded by paramilitary types, Phil feels justified in concluding that it smells greatly of bloody, unwashed dude. Wake up and smell the interrogation.

"Have you ever considered one of those little tree air fresheners? You know the ones - they smell like pine?" He asks, his tongue feels thick and his words taste like cotton. He's been drugged, he realizes, having already been intimately acquainted with such practices in the past. Drugs designed to make him talk. Phil doesn't have any trouble talking.

"You're going to tell us everything you know," the man says, sounding very, very serious. It's very obvious that English is not his language of choice, but Phil can't place the accent. He does, however, roll his eyes at the bluster, at least he thinks he does - it may just be the room spinning. Or him spinning. Is something spinning?

"No, probably not." He answers, because honesty really is the best policy. It will do, at least, until he's figured out where he is, how he got here, and what they've given him. Last he could recall, he had been on his way to meet an informant. "Who are you guys? Hydra? No, that's way bigger game. Mercs? Wow, that's a little embarrassing for me."

The two goons in the back shuffle in uncertainty. Phil is going to call them Thing 1 and Thing 2, and he's pretty sure they are there solely to be intimidating. Thing is, he's obviously not intimidated. Must be baffling. Poor Thing 1 and Thing 2.

The man sitting across from him at the table is obviously in charge here, and as such he's a bit quicker to regain his composure in the face of Phil's overwhelming lack of fear. "Do you have any idea who you're dealing with?"

Phil doesn't. It all seems very standard bravado-ish, and he rather suspects that them being able to nab him at all is due to some lax error on his part. At this point, he's already nicknaming Mr. In-Charge 'Twizzlers' because, quite frankly, his sweet tooth is more of a problem than these guys.

"Do you have any idea who you've pissed off by taking me?" He actually giggles then, thinking of Agent May's grumpy (grumpier?) face, and it sounds a little bit loopy, even to his own ears. "Excuse me. What is this you've given me? It's kind of a wild ride."

"It will make you talk."

"Look, Twizzlers - can I call you Twizzlers?" Phil keeps talking, ignoring completely the other man's obvious bewilderment. "I'm really not going to be here that long."

"Your organization will pay ransom." The way Twizzlers says it, less like a demand - more like a question, makes Phil wonder if the man even knows which organization he's talking about.

"Ransom? I thought you were looking for Intel? Are you going for the hat trick? Seems awfully ambitious." Thing 1 and Thing 2 are getting restless on the other side of the room, but Phil thinks he's got a little time before their uncertainty gets the better of them and they take matters into their own hands. What's going to happen when Twizzlers can't control their captive? He can't wait to find out. "I'm going to level with you, because you seem pretty decent for a mercenary. Your methods are a little basic, but, I figure you've got to have at least some game having captured me, and I appreciate that you went for drugs before torture."

"We will torture you if you don't talk!"

"Nobody says that," Phil snaps."Seriously, either you do it or you don't. Talking about it is just rude."

"Ransom or information - or we kill you."

"Text book and getting text bookier. Is 'bookier' a word?" Twizzlers shakes his head."Fair enough. What was I saying? Right, I'm not going to be here long enough. In fact, I would bet my big, shiny plane that she's already on her way."

"She?"

Phil is going to try to ignore the condescending tone in the other man's voice. "Yes, try to keep up, Twizzlers."

"You have a woman fight your battles for you?"

"No, I have a woman win my battles for me." So much for ignoring the tone. "You have no idea who's coming for you. I almost don't even want to spoil it. My rescue is going to be spectacular. Truly a-may-zing. Not so much for you, what with getting your ass beat, but for me, it's going to be a joy to watch. I mean that, from the bottom of my heart."

"Bottom of your heart, eh? Maybe we use your woman to make you talk."

"Okay, now you're just being petty. As if you could get your hands on her." Phil would be worried if he thought for one second they were anywhere near her level, but as is, he's just sort of ... miffed. "And she is not 'my woman'."

"Sounds like she's your woman."

"She's her own woman." Phil insists and Twizzlers scoffs at him. Actually scoffs. Well then. He hadn't intended to go down this road conversation-wise, but hey, whatever keeps them talking. It's just a matter of buying time. "There's a subtle wooing process in progress, okay? Not to be rushed."

"Where I come from, a man goes after what he wants." Twizzlers announces, and its just... almost too easy. Phil would be delighted if he wasn't getting a bit of a headache.

"Well, where I come from a man is friends first."

"You lack passion."

"You should see my trading card collection."

"Things are not love."

He shrugs, and the cuffs around his wrists clink against the back of the chair. "It's a hobby."

"Hobbies don't win you women."

"No, but they give me something to do with my hands."

Twizzlers laughs then, and it's not a pretty sound. Very similar to a seal bark. Thing 1 and Thing 2 grip their assault rifles closer to their chests, obviously unsettled with how the conversation is going. The weapons are nowhere near the level of sophistication Phil is used to, but would still most likely prove effective should either of them get twitchy enough to use them. And they are getting twitchy. "I like you, American. It's a shame I'm going to have to hurt you."

"I really wouldn't worry about it." The bulb above them flickers and Phil knows it can't be that much longer. There's just one thing he still needs. "While I've got you here, I just have to ask, how did you guys manage to grab me?"

"The man you were on your way to meet?"

"Sergei."

"He sold you out to pay off his gambling debt." There's that seal bark laugh again. Phil doesn't quite think it's as funny as Twizzlers.

"Little shit." Phil eyes his captors sympathetically. "That explains how you guys got caught up in all this. Doesn't seem like your normal racket."

"He promised us you were a keeper of important secrets."

"Eh, I do alright."

"Secrets you will tells us." Twizzlers insists again. One track mind, that one.

"I feel like there's a good chance that you're about to learn some stuff, sure." Phil says, right before the lights go out. Rarely does the timing work out so well. It's usually off by just enough to make things awkward, but today it's perfect.

It's only dark for a two and a half minutes, Phil counted. Might even be some kind of record. When the light comes back on, it's almost blinding, but then his vision clears and there's Melinda May. Thing 1 and Thing 2 are on the ground, their weapons underneath them. Twizzlers is slumped over the table, his sidearm still neatly locked in its holster. Didn't even stand a chance. Phil's only mildly disappointed that he didn't get to see the look on their faces, but whatever, he warned them.

"Hi!" Maybe he's a little enthusiastic in his greeting, but maybe he's just really happy to see her. May doesn't seem to mind either way, rolling her eyes fondly as she pats down Twizzlers jacket pockets. Phil's glad it's only the jacket pockets; if she had to dig through the man's pants he'd probably say something really, really stupid. The odds are already against him. "Have I ever told you that you have fantastic timing? You have fantastic timing."

"It stinks in here." She says, holding up the handcuff keys. "It's mostly this guy."

That's not surprising. "Twizzlers has other priorities."

May crouches down in front of him, flicking open a small knife to cut the tie at his ankles. When his legs are free, she looks up at him, concern written plainly across her face. "Are you hurt?"

"Only my pride." He assures her. Satisfied, she moves around behind him, her fingers brushing against his as she uncuffs his wrists. His limbs feel like jelly, whatever chemical cocktail they gave him still in full effect. The head rush when he gets to his feet is particularly impressive. If it was anyone other than May he'd probably try to suck it up and hobble out under his own power. But she's already there, helping to steady him, so he lets one arm loop around her shoulders and tries to give her his most grateful smile.

"Subtle wooing process? Really, Phil?"

Busted, so busted. He's almost embarrassed, almost, except when he looks down at her she's smirking, and its an honest to goodness Melinda May smirk. Phil really likes that smirk. "Won't even know you're being wooed until you've been wooed."

May huffs, which is as close to a laugh as he's going to get, and leads him to the door. He's just stepping over the unconscious body of Thing 2, when something very important occurs to him.

"Hey May, you like my card collection, right?"


End file.
